To be happy you're alive
by Dumbledore's Dong
Summary: She was forced to run away, she had reasoned. They were going to end her life in the same twisted way they had ended everyone else. The last she saw of Harry he was shooting killing curses, and the last she saw of Ron... She was alone now, and she never wanted to be found again. Post HBP and AU from then on. Rated M for some grizzly details and potential lemons in later chapters
1. Chapter 1

**All characters and content belong to the amazing JKR, I am simply playing in her wonderful world.**

 _She was forced to run away, she had reasoned. They were going to end her life in the same twisted way they had ended everyone else. The last she saw of Harry he was shooting killing curses, and the last she saw of Ron... She was alone now, and she never wanted to be found again. Post HBP and AU from then on. Rated M for some grizzly details and potential lemons in later chapters_

XXXX

The Order had abandoned Grimmauld Place months ago; its location had been compromised, somehow, and they had lost three aurors on that night. They weren't anyone Hermione was particularly acquainted with, but still, they had been someone's family, someone's friends. Most of the higher ranking Order members had fought valiantly while the rest of the house occupants fled. Herself, Ron, and Harry had gripped onto Molly's arms as she apparated them to the edges of The Burrow. In the moments before they had apparated, she saw dozens of bright flashes, several of them a bright green, and her stomach twisted in anxiety as the four of them stumbled through the dark marshes of the Weasley property towards the house. That night had been mid August, and though still summer, she felt an unnatural chill in the air. Not even ten feet from where they had apparated, she heard several more cracks, indicating more arrivals. She didn't turn to see who, but her knots inside her loosened. "More have survived. More have survived, it's okay Hermione, more have survived".

Molly pushed in front of the Trio as they entered the clearing surrounding her family home, hurredly opening the wooden door with a flick of her wand. "Quickly, up to Ron's room. Stay there until told, I beg of you. We'll call you down when we have more information," the middle-aged witch panted. As they passed through the doorway, she looked back out into the fields, her brow slick with sweat.

"Arthur! Arthur, please tell me that's you!" she bellowed in desperation. Moments later her worn down husband limped out through the long grasses, his thinning hair askew and his ragged robes torn along his abdomen. From behind him and fierce flash of red hair came rushing forth.

"Mum! Oh mum they almost had him!" Ginny sobbed as she flew at speed into her mother's open arms. The youngest Weasley's body shook hard with her sobs as her mother gripped her into a tight embrace.

"It's okay sweetheart, it's okay," Molly cooed into her daughter's hair. Arthur Weasley stumbled to the front door and leaned against it as an exhausted sigh left his lungs. Molly pulled him into an even tighter hug as Ginny clambered into the room, towards the Trio. She came to rest in Harry's arms, still sobbing quietly. Within a minute there had been dozens more apparition cracks, and soon a small crowd was gathered in the clearing, all eager to be inside.

"Upstairs, you four," Molly ordered. Her hair was ruffled and her eyes tights with worry. They didn't argue, and retreated onto the rickety staircase as Order members flowed through the front door. Harry lingered on the first flight, hoping to listen in and hear something to explain what had just happened. He had the smallest view of the Weasley's living room from where he crouched. His brow was furrowed and tight and his jaw clenched. Hermione knew he wanted nothing more than to storm back down and put Kingsley Shacklebolt in order. The tall, dark Auror was deep in discussion with Arthur and Moody, with several other order members around them listening intently.

"Harry!" Ron whispered sharply to his best friend. "Harry, come on. I know you want to be down there, but you heard mum."

"He's right Harry," Ginny said "the more you try to push yourself into things the harder they'll push you out. We just need to wait up here until everything cools down."

Harry shot them an annoyed glare before twisting his head back to watch the commotion downstairs and Ron, Ginny, and Hermione continued upwards. After less than a minute Harry fell back with a scared gasp, and Hermione spun around to see he was alright. Harry was crawling to his feet and Hermione saw, through the small gap in the staircase railing the bulbous staring eye of Moody.

"Keep going you four," Moody growled up to them quietly. "Don't worry your head, Potter. I'll have you down here soon. We need to account for everyone else, assess the damage. Granger, make sure he stays put till then."

There was a shocked gasp from the distance, and Moody spun on the spot and stomped towards the kitchen, where an injured form was being dragged through the door. Hermione gripped Harry's arms and pulled him up into Ron's room. There they sat for three hours before being summoned.

XXXX

Hands shaking, she scrambled around the small room she shared with Ginny at The Burrow. Her small beaded bag gripped tightly in her left hand, Hermione grabbed the last of her belongings and threw them carelessly inside. All thoughts of any ordered packing had escaped her mind the moment she saw the first black robe and silver mask grow out of the darkness that enveloped the crooked house.

The brisk cold of December had long since found its place, with winter storming in early in late October that year. The surrounding countryside was blanketed in a thick white blanket; the Weasley clan in addition to Harry, Remus, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Hermione had been gathered in the small living room. There was deep discussion between Remus and Shacklebolt as to whether the Trio and Ginny should be returned to Hogwarts for their safety. None of them had returned this year. Despite McGonagall taking position of Headmistress, there had been so much fear surrounding the family that Molly had simply refused to let her children out of her sight. Harry and Hermione had vehemently declined, stating that their efforts in the war vastly outweighed the need to pass NEWTS.

"Dumbledore gave me a mission," Harry had hotly countered Remus' plea for him to return to the safety of the castle. "Now, I don't care how young and vulnerable you think I am. I've more than proved I can handle this. If Dumbledore trusted that I could succeed, then you should too!"

Despite the pleading look in his eyes, Remus had lowered his gaze and nodded. Molly entered the room with a tea tray filled to the brim, catering to the many guests. They all sat in relative silence while they warmed their bodies with their hot cups of tea, the tinks of their cups on plates the only sound above the howling winter wind circling the Burrow.

Arthur broke the silence, clearing his throat. "So…where will you three begin?" he asked, eyes locked onto Harry's. Harry took a deep breath, debating what he should say. They had spent their months at the Burrow meticulously planning. Harry had hundreds of pages of notes that Dumbledore had left him, and he honestly had little clue on how to interpret them. They were mostly transcripts of memories Dumbledore had stored in his pensive as well has snippets from unpublished history books and sensitive pieces of information he had entrusted to very few. Hermione had spent two months rewording many of the pages so they could be understood or interpreted. By Halloween, they had a very short list of what items could be Horcruxes. Two of them, Tom Riddle's diary and Marvolo Gaunt's ring, had already been destroyed by Dumbledore. They suspected at least two other items would hold some kind of significance to Hogwarts, but as to what they would be, the Trio were still in the dark. At the bottom of the list, Hermione had scribbled 'Bellatrix Lestrange – vault'. When Harry and Ron questioned her, she told them she had overheard Snape at an Order meeting telling Kingsley Shacklebolt about the curiously high amount of activity there, as well as the random increase in wards around it.

"But how would he even know that?" Ron queried, scrunching his nose at the mention of the spy. "The git's probably just trying to lure someone in so his Death Eater buddies can have some fun." Hermione shot him a glare, but didn't say anything further. In truth she hadn't heard Severus Snape telling Shacklebolt anything at all. Months earlier, when the Order was still running its headquarters at Grimmauld Place, the Trio had been privy to one of the meetings. McGonagall had been addressing the crowded kitchen on a recent spay of attacks, and as Hermione was listening intently she felt a curious prickle at the edges of her mind. It felt magical, and the curious sensation confused her. Brows furrowed, she let her gaze wander around the room, trying to find the source of her discomfort, seeing if anyone else felt it too. Without direction, she felt her eyes unconsciously settle onto a figure in a shadowy corner near the fireplace. Her searching stilled as the black eyes of Severus Snape locked hers in place. His eyes were intense, burning a hole into her mind. She saw images flash through her head, images of the dark, crazed witch Lestrange followed by images of the entrance hall to Gringotts. Hermione pulled back slightly, in an unconscious attempt to snap free from whatever had just happened. She blinked several times and shook her head.

"Miss Granger, are you quite alright?" Remus had asked quietly from across the long kitchen table. He looked at her with kind, concerned eyes.

"Yes," she replied "Yes I'm quite alright." She subtly looked back to the face of her old professor in the corner, his eyes still on hers. She gave him a questioning frown. Had he done that? She thought. I mean, I know he is a skilled Legillimens…but what on earth even was that? After another brief moment of eye contact that almost felt too intimate, Snape turned his eyes back to McGonagall. That was the last time the Trio had seen the dark wizard before they left for the Burrow.

"We've got some ideas," Harry said vaguely to Lupin, who simply gave a doubtful look. Remus had been adamantly opposed to the entire idea of the Trio setting off on their own, in fact he thought the entire prospect of them being involved in the war was distasteful. But most of the Order had talked him to his senses, Harry was, after all, the central figure. He gave Harry one last sorrowful look before pushing himself up from the armchair he occupied and moved towards the kitchen to make his leave from the Burrow. Before he opened the door he turned back, giving the Trio one last look. He opened his mouth to speak, but before words could find his tongue, a large explosion sounded that shook the walls.

"What in Merlin's name-" Arthur began to say, but was cut short by another loud bang. Ginny, who had retired to her room early that night, came bounding down the stairs, calling pleadingly for her mother, a large gash upon her forehead dripping bright red droplets onto her sweater. She was in Molly's arms within another few short seconds, and the rest of the occupants had begun fleeing the room, spilling out into the small clearing in front of the Weasley's house. Hermione had made it to the doorway, and stood in brief silence as they all stared intently out into the surrounding fields. A high-pitched cackle laden with malice echoed in the dull silence. Shacklebolt raised his wand and cast a silent shield charm which rippled and formed a large dome over the small crowd. There sounded the slow crunch of steps through the thick snow and ice than had settled around the Burrow, and from between the thick, dead grasses a darkly clad figure emerged, its face shimmering in the light of the half moon. Hermione recognised the mask, and drew in a deep breath, wrapping her fingers around her wand in the back pocket of her jeans.

As she exhaled, several shouts rang out at once. Stupify! Confringo! Expelliarmus! Stupify! Avada kedavra! Bombarda!

Jets of almost every colour flew through the air, many bouncing off of Shacklebolt's still standing shield, however it was wavering underneath the attacks and within thirty seconds had faltered. Before the head Auror could produce a second, a green jet flew past his head, narrowly missing his ear and colliding with the outside wall just below the kitchen window. Molly was at their side in an instant, gripping Ginny's arm. She raised her wand slightly and murmured under her breath before disappearing with a crack! She had lowered the wards so they could aparate on the spot, something Hermione doubted she would ever do unless she knew they could not return for a long time. Harry had run forward to the front lines, standing side by side with Arthur, Shacklebolt, Lupin, and Fred and George. All men began stood only feet away from several more dark figures which had emerged after the first. Spells began flying between the two armies once more, and Hermione screamed when a stunning spell hit Lupin in the centre of his chest, causing him to fall backwards. His robed splayed around him on the snow.

Arthur Weasley shouted to Harry between spells, demanding he flee with Ron and Hermione, but Harry held his ground. Ron ran forth and joined his friend, shooting out what Hermione thought was probably the most powerful jinx she had yet seen him cast. His struck the nearest Death Eater square in the face, and in agony they ripped their silver mask away, blood pouring from every orifice in their head. They squealed in agony, and Hermione recognised them to be Dolohov; the fading scar over her chest twinged at the memory of his attack on her not two years past.

A slightly shorter masked figure came to the forefront, decidedly banishing their mask before the Order had the chance to. They stood beside the screaming pile that was Dolohov, and let a crooked, rotten smile spread over their face, their eyes deranged and black hair flying wild around them. Hermione let out a mournful wail as Bellatrix Lestrange stepped towards Ron, feet moving fast. Without speaking, she raised her wand, and fluently and sharply brought it down with a slash. Ron fell to his knees and his wand fell to the ground from his limp hand before his body hit the snow with a dull thud.

Harry had seen, at only the last second, the moment Bellatrix silently slashed his best friend's throat and ran towards her with fury in his eyes, emitting a guttural growl as he shot forth a number of spells. In his rage and pain, Hermione noticed, he wasn't even thinking about what he was firing, and with so many layers of pain building inside her she stumbled backwards, into the house again. The moment before she turned she saw that horrid green fly from the tip of Harry's wand, and she felt sick knowing that he had been driven to the point of using an unforgivable. But she didn't see if he hit his target.

Hermione ran blindly up the stairs, heart pounding, hands shaking, and eyes pouring. She stumbled and fell halfway, and while pushing back to her feet risked a glance through the window on the first floor landing. Harry was still firing his spells manically, and was back to back with Shacklebolt and Arthur, Lupin still out cold in the snow with a Death Eater standing triumphantly over him, his heavy boot pressing into Lupin's chest. She couldn't bare to see any more.

Her head thumped inside her skull.

Ron was hurt. Ron was so badly hurt. Ron was…dead. She couldn't comprehend what she had witnessed, she couldn't make it true in her mind. There was no way it could have happened.

But it had. She fell through the door of the room she shared with Ginny to hurriedly grab the last of her things as more screams from below met her ears. She was shaking and wailing and running on pure adrenaline, almost all sense of logic gone. All she knew was that she had to get out. Get out fast. Get anywhere. Get OUT.

Her brain screamed at her.

Hard thumps sounded from below as she swung her beaded bag over her shoulder, and the vile cackle that drifted up led her to know that this battle hadn't been won. And she was next.


	2. Chapter 2

She appeared with _crack_ in the centre of a muggle library in central London, her skin still prickled with goose-bumps. Hermione paced quickly to the Geography section, hands trembling from adrenaline as she pulled out the first Atlas she could find. She slammed it onto the nearest table, but couldn't make a move past staring at its fading cover. Her breathing hitched as the thoughts began spinning faster.

 _Where will I go? Should I be going? Oh lords, what if this is a mistake? Maybe I should just go back to Hogwarts, it's safe there…isn't it?_

Hermione pressed the palms of her hands onto the surface of the table, one either side of the book. She stared into the animated globe that graced its cover and took in three deep breaths, trying to steady herself.

 _Ron is gone…he's gone. What if Harry is gone too? If that is the case, the war is far from won. Then I have next to nothing left here for me._

The tears came hard and fast, and her sobs rang through the library, echoing off the floorboards.

 _I want to be far away,_ she thought. _Far, far away. Isolated from what I have grown to know. I want to be in the most distant place there can be. But where? Where do I know? I know nothing but of the place I was raised and of Hogwarts. Merlin, the world is so large, I could go anywhere…but where? I need space, I need distant._

She ruminated over these thoughts, eyes piercing into the table top before her. Then, after only moments lost in her head, she felt a jolt through the surface of the desk, almost as if she had been lightly zapped. The cover of the Atlas slammed open, and the pages began flicking themselves furiously; page after page after page, faster and faster and faster. Flick flick flick flick flick. She watched the book with a mixture of curiosity and mild fear, and she took a few paces backward. It was only a muggle textbook, but in these times Hermione was willing to bet that anything could have been bewitched.

Then the pages stopped, around midway through the large tome. She waited a few moments to see if anything further would happen, then stepped slowly forward taking in the words of the pages before her.

" _Located on the western-most coast of Australia, Perth is known as 'The Most Remote City' in the world. That is not to say it is impossible to reach; in fact there are numerous roads leading into the heart of the city, as well as a domestic and international airport. However, due to its nearest neighbouring city being well over 2,000 kilometres away, and with being surrounded by millions of acres of harsh, dry desert, this small city has earned its unofficial title."_

She re-read the passage, letting her eyes wander briefly over the map on the opposite page.

 _Most remote city…surrounded by millions of acres of desert? This was perfect!_

She flicked to the next page, where the Atlas continued its spiel on the city. There were several small photographs of the city's tourist attractions – _somewhere surrounded by tourists wouldn't do_ – and a final image which gripped her attention. Exactly what she needed. An image of a curiously curved rocky structure, perfectly smooth, reaching as tall as three Hagrids, with its tip curving back to the ground. According to the book, it was located inland and relatively distant to the city.

 _This is still a tourist spot though,_ she thought _but all I need is an image and to already be in the middle of nowhere_.

Without thinking any further on the matter, she slammed the Atlas closed and took another deep breath. Her hands still shook, but her tears were drying. Hermione roughly wiped her dripping nose on her sleeve, and after double-checking that her bag was still safely slung over her shoulder, closed her eyes tightly. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand, gripping it tightly in her hand. She focussed intently on the image she had seen in the book.

 _Wave rock, wave rock, wave rock_ she chanted to herself, then without prompting her magic any further felt her feet rip away from the wooden floor and her stomach lurch as she apparated.

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Thank you for the reviews, follows, and favourites so far! I was not expecting much (or any) support for my first fic, and after only one chapter!

I know this is only a short chapter, but I wanted to get this part out (both of my head and onto here). I'm hoping to write as often as I can, but don't yet have an idea of how often it will be; however, I'm aiming for at least once a week.

Thank you all so much again! Keep those reviews and follows coming!


	3. Chapter 3

It was roughly 2:30am when he felt it. The searing burn radiated from his left forearm to his shoulder, gripping is shoulder in a vice-like grip, sending shudders down his spine and forcing him into an almost foetal position. He rolled onto his left side, cradling his left arm to his chest.

He should be used to this by now, he thought to himself. Twenty odd years, and he still flinched like a child.

It was odd; not the hour of the call - that had happened more often than not. He remembered back to that one time the Dark Lord had summoned him at midday, once. It seemed almost comical to be called to the courtyard of some random, abandoned estate, sun shining and birds chirping. Almost like he was going to high tea with one of the greatest murderers of all wizarding time.

But this time he knew he wouldn't be sharing Earl Grey with the serpentine man. He knew this time was dark. This time was different. This time was just making him fucking nervous. Nervous for everything. For Potter. For his true cause. For the creepy man himself. For his own existence.

He had given up hope of survival. He knew he was just another one of Dumbledore's pawns in this war. That's all war was, to be honest. The side with the greater forces always won. And Dumbledore has an impressively good record of convincing witches and wizards to join his army.

 _How fucking ironic_ , he thought to himself. _How fucking ironic that Potter and his little mates come up with some of-the-whim name for their little brigade and it sticks._

He spent another few precious moments feeling sorry for himself before he rolled to the side of his bed and felt around roughly for his trousers.

After a rapid dressing and running a long-fingered hand through his hair he swept from his small bedroom to his equally small living room, grabbed a fistfull of floo powder. He glared disdainfully at the lifeless podwer, then threw it into the dry, cold hearth and called out _Malfoy Manor!_

XXXX

He felt the demeanor of the crumbling mansion before he saw it. Not that he needed to see it again. The once proud and maintained manor had folded before the Dark Lord over the last fifteen months. Narcissa had once hosted many pompous parties here, Draco had been the envy of his classmates. To be fair to the Malfoys, the had established a very comfortable life for themselves. Marble pillars once shone brightly at the gates of the property, but were now dull and damaged. The gardens were once green and full of blooming flowers and chirping birds. The family peacocks once strutted the grounds without fear. He hadn't seen a peacock since _he_ took residence.

He once took comfort in falling gracefully from the fireplace of Lucius' sitting room; often he would be hardly to his feet when a cool glass full of the finest firewhisky was pushed into his hand, a friendly smile on his close friend's face, followed by a tight half-hug and hours upon hours of shit-talking taking his crammed mind away from the general shittiness of the world.

Now, though, he felt physically ill before his knees even hit the floor. He followed the echo of talking through the halls, before, yet again, standing before the closed doors of the Malfoy's grand ballroom.

 _Why the even need this room, I have no clue_ , he thought as he stood with his palm against the dark wooden door. He inhaled a deep breath, and pushed.

The room was silent - at first. He took in the vast space in those first moments. It was busy - much busier than he anticipated - but slowly and carefully moved his feet forward. The room quietened with each step he took, his boots clacking against the marble floor and echoing off the walls.

"Ahh ," the hissing voice said over the silence. "Our man of the hour has arrived." Several snickers rang around him as he stepped forward, towards his 'master'. To be honest, the creature disgusted him. He wasn't really a man, he was something unnatural. Something vile. Something cruel and nasty.

As his legs collapsed beneath him and he found himself in an involuntary kneeling position. He knew this wouldn't be good. The Dark Lord rarely forced him to kneel. He always knelt voluntarily, never needing compulsion. Not because he worshipped, or even agreed with this wizard's views or activities. But because he had to. Because his existence depended on it. He did his job well, and he played the part so well any ordinary person would see him as the ultimate idol for wannabe Death Eaters. If they only knew is true motives.

"Severusss…" the Dark Lord hissed. "You have come yet again at my command. May you be an example for your peers." The dark wizard then shot a rapid angry glance toward and group of less "committed" Death Eaters huddled near each other by the far corner. The looked shamefully at their feel before themselves dropping to their knees, many of them mumbling apologies and excuses, which were swiftly cut short by a sharp "Enough!."

Severus turned his indifferent gaze from the shamed Death Eaters to his false master. He knew his upcoming task would be different. He could feel it.

"I have a mission for you," the words were spat at him. "Our latest raid failed, thanks to a certain Dolohov," his gaze swept over a ragged and weak figure near his left.

"I will not stand for soldiers who cannot handle a small amount of pain!" and at that he shot a brief but powerful cruciatus at the bag of rags that was his 'peer'.

Voldemort gave a low, grumbling chuckle in his chest at the man's screams, shifting in his makeshift throne to maximise his comfort. The wails continues for several minutes before the Dark Lord's wand went limp in his hands. His eyes slowly found Severus again.

"As I said, a mission is here for you," he spoke. "It appears one of Dumbledore's wards has escaped."

Snape's heart shot to his throat and pounded ceaselessly. He was aware of this raid. Every surviving member of the Order was aware. That night, a young Weasley had been lost. Potter himself was almost lost. It was a savage and gruesome attack. To slaughter someone's child in front of them...even Severus, in all the raids he had been forced to attend, thought that was up amongst the cruelest. The only thing more disgusting, he thought, was when….. _I won't think about that, that was just downright fucking foul_. He shook his head to shove out the sickening memory.

"The girl apparated before we could reach her," he heard Voldemort say. "We need her. She's all Potter has left of friends...perhaps if we, maybe a little, had some... _fun_...with her, that may draw Potter to us...may drive him to forego his reluctance...may rid him of his caution…"

"My Lord…" Severus spoke, warily. He swallowed hard before continuing. "My task is to return the Granger girl, is that correct?"

"Yes Severus," Voldemort said. "Unharmed or not, we don't particularly mind." at that he let out an uncharacteristically light laugh.

"How should I restrain her," Severus asked in his most indifferent voice. "Where shall the Mudblood be contained?"

He wanted to give the illusion of a willing servant, but he really was just desperate the know how safe his ex-student would be. His mind turned over hundreds of potential torture methods within only a minute, and the image of Ms Granger enduring them made his sick to his stomach.

 _Not even an annoying know-it-all Gryiffindor should have to face the torture that the Dark Lord had surely lined up for her._

Severus swallowed the sour lump in his throat.

"My lord," he spoke evenly. "I will find this wretch of a witch and bring her screaming to your feet."

He hoped to Merlin he was convincing enough. His words hung almost emptily in the air between him and Voldemort. The dark wizard watched him carefully as Severus fell again to his knees, not moving again after his final words, waiting for approval.

Then Voldemort chuckled. Followed by an almost bellowing laugh. It was a strange sound for Severus to hear. And it scared him. It made all hairs on his body stand on end. He only calmed when more laughed came from his fellow Death Eaters. That only meant one thing.

No one doubted him. Not Voldemort. Not Lestrange. Not even fucking useless, pathetic Lucius, who had spent his days hiding behind his tall property walls.

"Oh, my dear little Severus," Voldemort said. "You are the only person who exists that I trust to carry out my most delicate tasks."

He kept his head low. _Do not move until told to_ , the voice of nineteen-year-old Severus spoke in his head. That was the wisest voice, really, that talked to him. It was always on guard. It always had _his_ wellbeing in mind. He was the only one cheering for himself. And he always listened to that voice. It was naive, but one of reason.

The air in the cold chamber that was the Malfoy ballroom was silent, despite the dozens of bodies crammed into it's space.

"Then it shall be done, my Lord," Severus said in an even tone. At that he raised from his knee and spun on the spot, walking determinedly from the room, pulling the heavy door shut behind him with a _clunk_.

His feet found their way on their own back to the sitting room. His fist felt for the Floo powder on its own. His mouth growled _Spinner's End_ on its own.

From there his actions were a giant blur.

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THANKYOU to everyone who has reviewed and followed and favourited so far! You have given me so much confidence and motivation!

I've been home from a mental health hospital for just over two weeks now, and this writing has been a significant part of my recovery 3

I'm going to write and update as much as I can - that can be anywhere from twice a week to twice a month! But do not fear, this story is going to be very close to my heart. And (unlike all the fiction I have written so far in my life) will not be abandoned!

Stay tuned for the ACTUAL SSHG that this is tagged in ;) It's a slow burn (I think), but will be SO worth it!

Lots of love to you all xxx


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